


Breaking and Entering

by todisturbtheuniverse



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Act 1, F/M, Friendship, Humor, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-17
Updated: 2014-07-17
Packaged: 2018-02-09 04:51:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1969707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/todisturbtheuniverse/pseuds/todisturbtheuniverse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Isabela takes a trip to Hightown.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breaking and Entering

**Author's Note:**

> Giveaway fic for sereniboo on Tumblr, who requested an Act 1 or 2 Fenris and Isabela friendfic.

Fenris had all the  _best_ wine.

Hawke had told Isabela all about it after her last visit with the delightfully broody elf. “A whole  _cellar_ , Bela,” she’d hissed. “Andraste’s tits, you should have seen it. It was  _glorious._ ”

Isabela brushed the dust from her shirt and admired the rows upon rows of bottles. Glorious, indeed. And Fenris would never notice if one or two went missing.

As the dust settled around her, she cocked her head and listened for footsteps in the distance. The estate was dead silent and starting to smell; the odor drifted down to the cellar, following her as she perused the racks. Such luxurious bottles. Such pretty colors. Names she didn’t recognize in a tongue she didn’t speak. She sighed with pleasure and reached out to touch one, trailing her fingers through the dust.

A sudden silvery glow caught the corner of her eye, just before a hand clamped down on her bicep like a vise.

Isabela reacted instinctively, letting her assailant yank her toward him. As soon as she was close enough, she punched him in the face. It was only then, of course, that she recognized the illicit owner of the mansion.

"Shit." She shook out her hand while Fenris staggered back. "A friendly  _hello_ would have been fine.”

He glared. Combined with the glowing effect of his tattoos, that look was always a little creepy, but less so while he was holding his nose, trying to stem the flow of blood.

"I don’t make a habit of saying  _hello_ to intruders,” he said, his voice just a little stuffy. She bit back a giggle. “You’re lucky I didn’t gut you.”

"Well, that  _would_ be hard to do without a sword,” she replied pointedly, digging a handkerchief out of her boot. “Here.” She offered him the square of linen; he swiped it from her, still glaring. “I called out when I came in.”

"I was asleep."

Isabela eyed his mussed hair and lack of armor. “Passed out, more like.”

He removed the handkerchief from his nose. “Do you always just invite yourself in when it appears that no one is home?”

"Only sometimes," she said, smiling. "Hawke told me about this cellar of yours. I wanted to see for myself."

"It isn’t mine," he muttered.

"Isn’t it? I don’t see anyone else defending the property from dangerous pirates."

His eyes narrowed. “You’re mocking me.”

"Pssh. I’m only teasing. It’s very brave of you to stop the theft of all this wine." At random, she pulled a nearby bottle from the rack, admiring the gold of the glass in the light of Fenris’s tattoos.

"Do what you like," he groused, thrusting the handkerchief at her. "I’m going back to bed."

"Aww. And leave me to drink by my lonesome? You’re not a very good host. Besides, I brought cards." She ignored the handkerchief and pulled the deck out of her boot.

"Do you keep everything in there?" he asked, eyeing her boots.

"Most things," she said, and waited until he caught her eye to wink. "Come on."

She pulled herself up the ladder. Judging by his nearby grumbles, he had decided to play along. She smirked in triumph and led the way to the stairs; she could see the faint glow of a fire, burned down to the embers, on the second floor.

"Cozy," she commented, taking in the uneven table, multiple broken chairs, and badly strung lute. "Do you play?"

"No." He fell into the chair nearest the fire, squinting at the light.

Isabela pulled the cork from the bottle. “Here, sweet thing. You look like you need it.”

At long last, the corner of his mouth crooked up into a brief smile. “You break into my house.”

"The door was unlocked!"

"You try to placate me with my own wine."

"I thought it wasn’t yours?"

Fenris snorted and took a deep drink. “Deal,” he invited, handing the bottle back to her, “if you’re going to stay.”

She sat. “Oh, I’m staying. If you’re lucky, I’ll play you a bawdy song later.”

He coughed. “That won’t be necessary.”

She chuckled, cutting the deck. “Nothing’s  _necessary_. But it could be. You look like you could use a bawdy song. Sun barely down, and you were already too hanged to hear me come in. Loudly.”

"I was not  _hanged_ ,” Fenris said testily. “My last outing with Hawke went poorly. I had to go to that…abomination. For healing.” A muscle jumped in his jaw. “I have an adverse reaction to magic.”

She passed a card across to him. “To  _Anders_ , you mean. You get along with Bethany just fine.”

"She doesn’t know enough of healing," he said wearily.

She cocked an eyebrow, trying to make sense of the shift in his mood. Now that he sat in the light, he did look worse for the wear: eyes bloodshot, shadows etched deep beneath them, a sort of claminess to his skin.

"Well," she said at last. "If you ever need to bleed on a handkerchief, you know where I live."

He cast her an amused look, his grim expression lifting. “I’d sooner not walk into your fist again.”

"Oh," she cooed. "Did it hurt? D’you want me to kiss it?"

He kicked her shin under the table. Laughing, she examined her cards. What a fruitful breakin this had been: wine, a scuffle, and now a pretty elf to look at while she cheated at Wicked Grace. Kirkwall wasn’t so bad, after all.


End file.
